It was a beautiful crisp day with clear blue sky. Zoran and I were running side by side. I lengthened my stride to pump each and every step toward the finish line. We passed several runners and trotted on.
Ten meters to the finish line, a runner in green shirt sprinted by us. I then realized it was the same runner we just passed, who now broke out into a frantic chase. The spectators were cheering and clapping. It was a moment you know that you've outdone yourself. A moment that you've caused someone to feel intimidated, which I didn't intend to, and started to catch up with you. Actually, I think I've done something good to help push others through the finish line. I couldn't help but laugh. The laugh concluded my race. My first long distance race.
Endurance sports was never my thing during my track and field days. I've never thought I could run 3 kilometers, let alone 10! But the idea started to bud when I watched over and over again the video we made for my husband Zoran's Boston Marathon last year in April. Zoran was running the final stretch of the course. When I spotted him, I shouted his name. He saw me and blew me a kiss with a big smile on his face. He then proceeded to cross the finish line carried by the sound of people cheering, clapping, and ringing bells. All the runners were enjoying their moment. Among them a runner pushing a quadriplegic in a wheelchair, soldiers in full gear carrying a 20-plus-pound rucksack. It was empowering. Zoran whispered in my ear, "I wish you could feel what I felt during the race." So in May 2010, I started running.
It was going good until Fall when I've built up my strength to finish 8 kilometers. I started experiencing pain in both of my knees. And almost at the same time, an old injury in my shoulder came back to haunt me. I ended up with a frozen shoulder, which couldn't be cured even after 12 sessions of physiotherapy. That winter was not a happy one, with all these little aliments reminding me that I'm turning older. I rested and did nothing.
March 2011, Zoran and I tried out a short run to test my joints. It went well, and they got stronger over time. I managed to climb back to 8k and then 10k and then 12k with no problem.
In late September 2011, Zoran did his Berlin Marathon. Fall is a road race season. All small and big towns have their own races. When we came back from Berlin, we registered for the Angus Glen 10K, unplanned. We were lucky to get in, since there were just a few spots left.
The two fresh plain bagels were my fuel. And they kept me going without a hitch. Sitting there waiting for the start turned out to be entertaining—we made two new friends during the wait, and joked and laughed until shortly before the start. There were only 800 runners participating in the race and everything was well organized, including the pre-race warm-up, which was not a bad idea.
Then it started! Zoran was pacing me and reminding me I have to slow down to save the strength for later. But somehow, the atmosphere and the runners just kept me going faster than I should have.
The course went through some beautiful communities before winding its way out back to the main road. Zoran and I were chatting and joking. I was trying to relax and didn't pay too much attention to my breathing. Then I got a stitch around the 4k mark. With Zoran's advice, I pulled aside and stretched. It did the trick, the stitch eased and was soon gone.
There were hills along the route, but the last 2 kilometers were all downhill. That's a nice treat when your legs are tired and just want the race to end fast. The wind was blowing against us and it was acting as a cushion to buffer us from going too fast downhill. I felt like I was in the air. Floating.
When I saw the finish gate, I started pumping, lengthening my stride and passing people, while all the while being chased myself, and eventually, finished, with a medal on my neck.